Fishing Friday
by Louise Hargadon
Summary: Very silly oneshot. To Michaela's surprise, Preston arrives unannounced at the homestead. Even more surprisingly, she discovers that he has planned an afternoon's adventure with Sully...


**A/N: **I don't know, I just got this scenario in my head while I was getting ready for work and couldn't stop giggling at the thought of** Michaela**'s poor confused expression! I hope you like it. It's just a silly bit of nothing.

Also, for anyone who's reading Heart of Stone (both of you!), fear not, I'm halfway through the next chapter and it should be up in the next few days.

**Disclaimer: Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman **and all the boys and girls down in 1870s Colorado Springs belong to **Beth Sullivan**. I own nothing except for a very peculiar brain when I've not had enough sleep...

**Fishing Friday**

_Rat-tat-pause-tat-tat-tat!_

Michaela rolled her eyes and let out a groan of frustration. She was just at the critical point with her latest batch of chutney, the last thing she needed was a knock at the door! For all she knew, this batch of chutney might be the first edible one she had made - and now someone was at the door, ruining everything.

"Coming!" she called as cheerfully as she possibly could, her tone entirely juxtaposed to the scowl on her face.

She smoothed her hair back around her temples, removed her apron and opened the door. She hadn't expected any visitors, but the last person she expected to see at her door now towered over her, grinning expectantly and pushing a bunch of flowers towards her face.

"Michaela!" Preston declared, beaming at her. She was too confused to say anything for a moment and dumbly took the flowers that had been thrust at her. "It's so good to see you," he said, grabbing her by her shoulders and kissing her cheek. She let out a shout of protestation and stepped away.

"Preston!" she shouted, absolutley mortified. Preston looked at her, genuinely hurt, which only served to add to her consternation. "You can't just come here, hand me a bunch of flowers and kiss me!"

"Why not?" he asked, surprised at her outburst.

"Because, I'm... well... it's not proper!" she answered, pulling herself to her full height and glaring angrily at him. For a moment he gazed at her in abject confusion, before grinning cheekily at her and shooting her a wink.

"Are you worried Sully will find out?" he joked, letting out a snort of laughter as he looked around the room. She gasped in horror.

"How dare you!" she demanded. Preston looked at her as though she had grown an extra head. "What do you want?"

"I want what I always want when I come here - to see your husband," he answered, as patiently and gently as he would have explained something to a very small child. Michaela's jaw dropped. "Are you all right, Michaela? You seem a little... perturbed," he said, deciding that it would be wisest to choose his adjectives carefully at this point. He looked over at the stove and then looked back at her with a sympathetic expression on his face. "Did the chutney go wrong again?"

"As a matter of fact, you did happen to knock at a very crucial moment in the proceedings, and I would be grateful if-"

"Not at all, you go right ahead. Maybe this time you'll get a jar out of it!" he said, encouragingly. "I'll just wait for Sully."

"Preston!" Sully called, finally walking in from the barn. Michaela dropped her wooden spoon in shock when she saw her husband shaking hands warmly with the banker. They both turned to her and frowned. "Are you all right, Michaela?" he asked, concerned. Preston shrugged.

"She's been in a very strange mood today. I think it's the chutney."

"Did it go wrong again?"

"No!" Michaela shouted, resting her hands on her hips. "There's nothing wrong with the chutney! Or at least, there won't be if I can have an empty kitchen while I work! What are you doing here, Preston?"

Sully and Preston both looked a little surprised by her outburst, but both put it down to her stress over the chutney.

"Preston an' me's goin' fishin'," Sully explained, grinning broadly, "Told him I'd show him how to tie flies this week." Preston cleared his throat slightly.

"Preston and I," he corrected him. Sully nodded.

"Yeah, that's right. Preston an' I's goin' fishin'," he said. Preston rolled his eyes and shook his head. It was close enough.

"Fishing?" Michaela repeated. They nodded.

"It's Friday, Michaela," Preston reminded her. Her frown only deepened.

"What's so special about Friday?" she asked.

"Fishin' Friday!" Sully answered. "You remember, we started it up 'bout three weeks ago. Every Friday, just me, Preston, Wolf an' the Colorado fish!"

Michaela felt as though she had somehow slipped into a parallel universe. There was something wholly wrong with the scenario in which she found herself. Preston and Sully had never made any secret of their animosity toward one another. Preston had unnecessarily caused Sully and Michaela far too much trouble for them to ever have so much as a civil conversation together. She had absolutely no idea why they had suddenly decided to spend their Friday afternoons together - and why she had no recollection of any of their friendship.

"Fishing Friday?" she finally repeated, feeling her forehead to check for signs of a fever. She was sure she must be hallucinating. "I thought you two didn't even like each other?"

"I don't wish to be rude, Michaela, but that's ridiculous," Preston answered. "Sully and I have saved each other's lives! There's a bond formed from times like those that a man never forgets!"

"That's right. Preston's been a great friend to us," Sully said, nodding in agreement as Preston draped his arm around Sully's shoulders. Michaela's eyes widened and she was convinced that if she hadn't closed them tightly a moment later, they would actually have fallen out of her head.

"What about the time he tried to reposess the homestead?" she asked.

"Business," Sully answered. She looked at Preston who shrugged and nodded.

"What about the time he let you go to prison?" she asked.

"Spirited high-jinks," Sully said, waving his hand dismissively. Michaela let out a cry of an emotion she couldn't quite define. She had never known Sully, in all the years she had ever known him, to ever use a phrase like 'spirited high-jinks'. She didn't know what was more strange, his ease at forgiving Preston for all the trouble he had caused, or the fact that Preston now looked a little offended at the fact she had even brought those subjects up.

"I must say, Michaela, I didn't realise how keen you were to hold a grudge," he said, a little grumpily.

"A grudge?! My husband went to prison because of you! We almost lost our home!"

"Almost," Preston repeated, holding his index finger aloft. "Not quite."

"Only because of Daniel's kindness," she said, suddenly wondering if she was actually the only person who remembered what had happened. Sully and Preston both pulled a face as though they'd just been given a spoonful of Michaela's chutney.

"Daniel!" Preston said, disparagingly.

"He ain't comin' on Fishin' Friday," Sully said, nodding firmly.

At that moment, Matthew walked through the door. Michaela sighed in relief. Perhaps she'd get some sense out of him.

"Matthew!" she said, smiling at him. He nodded at her and grinned.

"Dr Mike," he said, before turning to Sully and Preston. "Fishin' Friday?" he asked. Sully nodded. "I gotta get in on that one week!"

"If you're free this afternoon, you should come," Preston said, squeezing Matthew's shoulder affectionately. Michaela's eyes widened. "You know what they say - three's a party!"

"Four, countin' Wolf," Matthew agreed. "Thanks, Preston, I'd be glad to!"

"Am I the only one who has no idea about Fishing Friday?" she demanded, throwing a towel onto the kitchen table angrily. "Am I the only one who remembers how our entire family feels about... well... about him?" she asked, nodding towards Preston. Preston, Matthew and Sully all looked mortified by her words. "You all hate each other!"

"Nobody hates anybody," Sully said in a soothing voice, holding his hands up defensively. "Are you sure you're all right, Michaela?"

"Has Dr Mike been making chutney?" Matthew asked, looking at the stove. Preston nodded. "It went wrong again, huh?" he asked. Sully and Preston looked at him, grimaced and shrugged.

"There is nothing wrong with my chutney!" Michaela shouted. "I may not be the best cook in Colorado Springs, but I know how to make a simple chutney! Fine, I might burn it most times, but I know one day I will make the finest chutney you ever tasted!" she declared, gesticulating wildly, her hair falling into her eyes as she ranted.

"Michaela?" Sully asked. She glared at him.

"What?"

"Michaela? Michaela? Michaela, is everything all right?" he asked, his voice sounding more and more distant as he continued speaking. She tilted her head to one side, a little confused. Perhaps she was suffering with sudden onset hearing loss.

"Sully?"

"Michaela!" he said, suddenly sounding very close to her indeed.

Michaela sat up with a start, almost headbutting Sully full in the face. She gazed around her bedroom for a few moments, completely disoriented, until she realised what had happened. She finally let out a shout of relief and clapped her hands joyfully.

"It was just a dream!"

"It must'a been some dream, you started shoutin' about chutney."

"It was Preston," she said. Sully couldn't disguise the flash of surprise that flickered across his face.

"You been dreamin' about Preston?" he asked, raising his left eyebrow ever so slightly. Michaela blushed.

"Don't be silly. You were there, too!" she said. Sully paused for a moment before shaking his head.

"I don't think I wanna know," he said, dryly. Michaela blushed an even brighter shade of red and buried her face in the bedclothes. Sully grinned as he heard her muffled laughter.

"It was so strange. The two of you were friends," she said. Sully frowned.

"That is strange," he agreed. Michaela couldn't even begin to explain what else had happened in her dream, or why Matthew had shown up in it for no reason.

"He gave me flowers," she said. "And shook your hand. And you were going fishing together."

"Fishin'?" Sully repeated.

"Yes. He doesn't even seem the type to go fishing! And if you ask me, those flowers were a little cheap in comparison to what I'm sure he could afford for a hypothetical bunch of flowers. Besides, I'm allergic to peonies."

"Michaela?"

"Yes?"

"Are you done talkin' about Preston?" he asked, gently brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her softly. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she returned his kiss happily.

"Who?"

**THE END**


End file.
